Contentment is an unreliable emotion. It sneaks off, leaving us battling the tugging dissatisfactions and covetous itches alone. And when it leaves us, the possibility of accepting what we have – and who we are – seems entirely improbable. But then back it creeps in the silent flush of an early morning, or in the pub, or eating chips on the pier, and we briefly notice that life, truly, is perfectly enough, just as it is.

Tiffany Watt Smith: The Book Of Human Emotions – an encyclopedia of feeling from anger to wanderlust (Profile Books 2015) p 61.

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